


Vanilla

by Fishyz9



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishyz9/pseuds/Fishyz9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is a restless sleeper and does himself an injury as a result of this. Sonny takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Laura, (ladimmett@tumblr or Augusta on AO3) who needed cheering up and requested a fic based on a recent tweeted picture of Chandler. I hope this makes you feel a little bit better 

** Vanilla **

 

Here’s the thing about Will Horton: he fidgets. He can never really sit still, and if he’s sitting next to me in particular, he cannot keep his hands to himself―he is constantly in motion. If he’s not tapping his foot or draping his leg over mine, he’s playing with my hair, pulling on the drawstring to my hoodie, or even gently tugging on my friggin _ear_. It’s just how he is, and I can’t say I don’t like it because I secretly adore it. _Except_ when it comes to the bedroom.  

I’m not talking about sex here, I’m talking about _sleep_. That nervous energy of his which is oddly endearing during the day doesn’t just disappear because he’s unconscious, oh no. In fact I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve woken up hugging his feet because he has somehow burrowed down into the sheets so that he is nothing but an undefinable lump somewhere at the bottom of the bed. Or I’ll wake up because he’s mistaken me for his pillow, and his (gorgeous) chest in my face combined with a lack of oxygen jolts me awake with a gasp.

And don’t get me started on the sleep walking. He doesn’t do it often, but when he does? Fuck a _duck_ , it’s terrifying. I love him and everything, but when he sleepwalks he’s as weird and creepy as one of those pale, dead-eyed kids you see in horror movies.

Sometimes I’ll find him standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring off into space. On those occasions I just gently shuffle him back towards the bedroom, not even attempting to wake him. The other end of the spectrum―and I should preface this by saying it has only happened the _once_ ― was when I woke up one night alone in bed, and playing the dutiful boyfriend, I got up to go look for my sleeping, wayward boyfriend only to find the kitchen and living room empty and the front door to our apartment left wide open.

Again, I’d like to reiterate that I _love_ this guy, but you can surely begin to understand why this is a little frustrating, if not worrying.

Seeing that door standing open in the middle of the night terrified me. My mind instantly filled with thoughts of Will wandering into traffic, and in record speed time I was out of that door, calling out for him. I didn’t have to run far, it turns out, because I found him standing in the small, communal yard of our apartment complex, dead asleep, in nothing but his boxers and holding a fist full of tulips he’d ripped up from the flower bed.

His skin had been cold to the touch, so without a second thought I whipped off my t-shirt ―which was one of his, anyways― and tugged it over his head. I didn’t even bother to try and thread his arms through the armholes, I just gently shook his wrist until he dropped the flowers, and then ushered him back inside.

When I got him back to bed I stood there, watching over him for a few moments while I waited for my heart rate to return to something that resembled normal. Unable to shake my fright, I decided to take that extra precaution and wrapped him up in the duvet like a freakin tootsie roll. But even with Will as snug as a bug in a rug, I wasn’t happy until I’d draped myself over him; my leg and arm hooking him close and anchoring him to my body. He slept on, oblivious. I slept fitfully, only ever lightly dozing and jolting awake every time he moved or mumbled in his sleep.

It was the next morning at the kitchen table when he was eating his cereal that I caught him looking at his hands, a frown on his face as he wondered out loud why the hell they were so filthy and how he’d gotten so much dirt under his fingernails.

Here’s the other thing―the more _frustrating_ part of his odd habit―he never believes me.

_“Now you’re just making stuff up.”_

_“No, Will. I found you asleep in the tub. Again.”_

Or…

_“I don’t even know how to bake, Sonny.”_

_“Well, last night you were hell bent on making a cake.  Twice I found you in the kitchen with a mixing bowl, cracking eggs.”_

And let’s not forget…

_“Oh, quit it.”_

_“I’m not even kidding; I had to pry the car keys from your hand. We’re going to have to start hiding them before we go to bed.”_

So when I wake up because I’m cold, and look over at Will to see him curled up in all of our sheets and hanging off the side of the bed, I’m not surprised. But you know what? He’s going to see for himself what it is I contend with almost every night, he is not going to brush me off as the overly concerned boyfriend this time.

I’m about to leave him there to go start the coffee, but I can’t help but pause for a second to grin at him. He looks so friggin cute like that, just… all wrapped up and his hair a mess as he snores softly.

I grin when I think of something evil, and walk over to the dresser where I left my phone on charge last night. This is so going to be my new wallpaper for the foreseeable future.

 _Click_.

   
  


Oh yeah, defiantly my new wallpaper. It’s his own fault for being so cute.

I go make my coffee, determined to leave him be so that when he wakes up and joins me, I can be smug and show him the pretty new picture on my phone. I hide my grin behind my mug when I hear him stirring, but it takes him longer than expected to make his appearance. In fact, I hear him before I see him. That is one grumbly boyfriend coming my way.

“Morning.” I say, sipping my coffee.

“Meh.”  He gripes, his hair all over the place, blinking sleepily and shuffling over to the coffee pot with hand on his lower back. “Coffee. Coffee and aspirin.”

“Sleep well?”

“I slept fine; it’s the waking up part that doesn’t feel too good.”

“I wonder why that is?”

He turns slowly to glare at me. “Did you leave me like that on purpose?”

I shrug. “Whenever I turn you right side up you never believe me.”

“You’re mean.”

“No, the picture I took of you… _that_ was mean.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You did not.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and then hold it up to him as I take another swig from my mug.

There’s that glare again. “Today? You fail as a boyfriend.”

“Do you believe me now when I say you’re a pain in the butt when you’re unconscious?”

“Hey, for all I know you could have arranged me into that position just so you could take your stupid picture.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “Do you actually believe that?”

“…No.”

“And it’s not a stupid picture, it’s cute.”

“It’s stupid.”

“ _You’re_ stupid.” I snicker.

“Did you just wake up mean today?”

“No, I woke up _cold_!” I laugh again, waving my phone at him.

He grumbles and turns back to the coffee maker. “You suck.”

“I’m awesome and you’re a weirdo” I say, getting up to leave my mug in the sink. I rest one hand on his hip and kiss his neck. “Get over it.”

“ _You_ get over it” he mumbles, and then jumps when I swat his butt.

I’m about to tease him some more, but his hand flies to his lower back and he hisses in pain.

“Hey, you’re really hurting.” I get worried when he doesn’t say anything, and gently rest my hands on his shoulders. “You okay?”

“I’m fine; I just pulled something, I think.”

“Now I feel like a dick.”

“Good!” He laughs.

“I should have moved you or woke you up or something.”

“It’s not your fault I’m freak in the sack. And not in a good way.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling, and I ever so gently wrap my arms around his waist. “Hey, you’re plenty freaky.”

He presses his lips together and gives me a knowing look. “I’m vanilla and I know it.”

“Well vanilla just happens to be my favorite flavor.”

“You don’t ever want…you know, Bing Bang Cherry?”

I snort, unable to help myself, and the heat that floods his cheeks turns me on like nothing else. “Baby,” I whisper, and then catch his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “The sex is perfect― _we’re_ perfect…ex _cept_ when you wake me up every other night to do your zombie impressions.”

He grins. “I’m still not convinced that you’re not just making the sleep walking thing up.”

“Even your _mom_ backed me up, Will.”

“Whatever.” He smirks, and lifts his arms to wrap them around my neck, but then hisses in pain. “ _Shit_.”

“Aw, Will.” I frown, wincing on his behalf. “Tell you what, why don’t I run you a hot bath before I run out to the store and grab you some of those heating pad things?”

“We were supposed to go grocery shopping together.”

“I’m a big boy, I’m sure I won’t get lost.”

“I’m not worried about _that_. You always buy health food crap; I want ice cream, dammit.”

I roll my eyes and kiss the tip of his nose just to bug him, and he does that adorable thing where he scrunches up his nose. “I will buy you ice cream.”

“And Doritos?”

I nod. “And Doritos.”

“What about―”

“Don’t push it.”

“Fine, you go shopping, I’ll get my rubber duck and bubbles on.”

“It amazes me that you still enjoy bath time so much.” I say, turning his hips and walking him through to the bathroom.

He shrugs. “I just make the most of it, it’s not my fault you’re too mature to appreciate the shits and giggles to be had in a big bubble bath.”

“I’m like dating an infant.”

“You’re just boring.” He sends me a sly look as I plug the bath and turn on the taps. “You should join me next time.” He lifts one shoulder. “You know, when I can move without groaning like an old man.”

“That sounds like a plan.” I tug him forwards by the waistband of his boxers and kiss him. “You got it from here?”

“I think I can manage, Sonny.”

“Okay then, Mister sarcastic. Not going to fall asleep or…you know, drown?”

“Your faith in me is touching, it really is.”

I laugh. “Okay, okay. I’m going; I’ll be back in an hour or so. I might drop by work to check on things first.”

“Take your time,” he says. “I promise to still be alive when you get back.”

I hold out my pinky, and he bats my hand away with an annoyed “ _Sonny_!”

I leave him to his bath and take off. Everything with work is fine, so I head on to the store, making sure to pick up Doritos and ice cream, and I’m actually heading back to the car when my phone starts to ring. I laugh out loud when I look at the display. He made me change the wallpaper, but he didn’t say I couldn’t use his picture as his photo for when he calls me. I’d forgotten that I changed it until just now, so seeing it has me chuckling as I answer.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, are you uh…are you on your way home?”

“Yep, just getting in the car, everything okay? How’s the back?”

“Um, I’m okay, sort of. My back sucks.”

I frown. “What do you mean _sort of_?”

“I’m…I’m stuck in the damn tub.”

“What? Why?”

“Because my back sucks, Sonny! I can’t get up!”

I will not laugh. I will not laugh.

His voice drops in tone, and I can tell he’s annoyed. “Are you laughing right now?”

“No” I laugh.

“It isn’t funny! I’m cold and wrinkly!”

I laugh louder, leaning against the car and nearly dropping the grocery bags. “Oh my god,” I gasp. “I love you so much.”

“Then come home and get me out of the tub.”

I snicker to myself, setting the bags on the roof of the car and then digging in my pocket for my keys. “Okay, honey. I’ll be home soon, just stay…” I break off awkwardly. “Uh…”

“Were you seriously about to say _stay put_?”

“Um. No?”

He sighs loudly, loud enough for me to hear over the phone, and I can just picture him sitting there, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just please come home.”

“On my way. I guess it’s a good thing you like to play Angry Birds in the tub after all.”

“ _See_. And you always scold me for it.”

“One day you are going to drop your phone in the bath, and it’ll be your own stupid fault.”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“I called future Will stupid.”

“I guess that’s okay. Come home. Please.”

“On my way. Hanging up now.”

“ _Wait_ , Sonny? Still there?”

“Yeah, Will.”

“Love you too.”

I’m glad he can’t see the sappy look on my face that I know is there, because he’d give me shit for it. “See you in a few.”

“Okay.”

I hang up and get in the car. When I get home…oh my god. He looks pitiful and adorable and he’s chilly and I just love him. I love him, I love him, I. _Love_. Him.

I have to get undressed and actually climb into the tub to get him up, and when he isn’t gasping in pain he’s practically hyperventilating with laughter because he has an awesome sense of humor and can appreciate how ridiculously hilarious the entire thing is.

Our day goes slowly; any plans we made for this lazy Sunday just fly out of the window in favor of lying on the sofa watching Hitchcock movies. When it’s time for bed, we face a dilemma. The mattress is too soft and pretty much just fucks with his back no matter how he lays.

“Let me just try something, can you help me sit up?”

I help him sit up; and I’m beginning to feel genuinely worried that he may have caused himself some serious injury. “Will, if this carries on through tomorrow I think you should get checked out.”

“It’s just a pulled muscle, I’m fine.”

“I don’t care, you’re getting checked out.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re giving me much of a choice.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

“Then I guess I’m getting checked out.”

“I’m glad you see it my way.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly. “Okay, can you throw my pillow on the floor?”

I frown. “You’re going to sleep on the floor?”

“I need a hard surface.”

“You were okay on the couch earlier today.”

“I wasn’t comfortable.”

I press my lips together unhappily. “Then why did you say you were?”

“Because I wanted to cuddle you while we watched movies, now help me down.”

He doesn’t need to know that what he said practically melted my heart and I’m pretty much just done over here. Instead I help him down, and you know what? He actually seems to settle quite comfortably.

“How’s that?”

He shifts the pillow behind his bed and pulls the throw up, under his arms. “I think I’m okay.” He looks up at me. “Guess I’m sleeping down here tonight.”

When he laughs at me, I’m left confused and offer him a hesitant smile. “What? Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re pouting.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You’re pouting because I have to sleep on the floor and you’re so in love with me that you hate the thought of spending a single night without me in your arms.” He points at me. “I so have you whipped.”

I swat at his hand, grinning, but I don’t contradict him. I grab my own pillow and lie with my head at the bottom of the bed so that we’re adjacent to each other. “Warm enough?” I ask quietly, looking down at him.

He nods his head, looking up at me. He stares at me, and I smile into my pillow, staring back. It’s always so comfortable with him.

“Hi” he whispers.

“Hey,” I laugh quietly.

“I miss you.”

“I’m a foot away, silly.”

“I know.”

I let my arm dangle down so that my fingertips can brush along his arm. “Miss you too.”

When I brush against the back of his hand he turns it and he lets my fingertips brush his palm before he links our fingers, holding my hand.

“I like being quiet with you.”

I smile at him. “I like it too.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me. “I like being noisy with you, too.”

I snort and turn my head so half my face is hidden in my pillow. “ _Will_.”

When I look at him, he’s grinning and biting his lip.

I grin back at him. “This feels like a weird slumber party.” I admit.

“Yeah, maybe” he says, and then he shifts his head against his pillow, struck by a thought. “I can’t say I’ve been to many…well, _any_ slumber parties, but I believe that ice cream is mandatory.”

“You want ice cream?”

“I do, yes.”

“Now?”

“Correct. Only, why don’t you grab two spoons…” He pats the floor next to him. “And join me for a little bit, just until you’re sleepy.”

I’m about to argue, but then I figure…why the hell not. I get up to fetch one bowl, two spoons, and then I set the bowl down to help him sit up against the dresser, propping him up with pillows. When I sit down next to him with the bowl, he lifts the throw and then covers my lap.

I kind of love that we are two grown men, sitting on our bedroom floor at midnight, in the dark, eating ice cream under a blanket. I couldn’t do it with anyone else.

I brush my lips against his cheek, and he turns to catch my lips in a lingering kiss. I feel a familiar stirring in my groin so I pull away and touch my head to his for a moment. We both grin, knowing that that’s as far as it’ll go tonight while he’s hurt.

“Ice cream” I whisper, pulling away a fraction and holding the spoon up to his lips.

He smiles a happy, secretive sort of smile. “What flavor did you get?”

“My very favorite.” I murmur, and then kiss his cheek. “Vanilla.”

 

 

 


End file.
